Now every field is clothed with grass, and every tree with leaves; now the woods put forth their blossoms, and the year assumes its gay attire.

This line is from Virgil’s agricultural didactic poem the *Georgics*, in a passage that turns to the signs and pleasures of spring. Writing under Augustus, Virgil frames rural labor within the larger rhythms of the natural year, using seasonal change both as practical knowledge for farmers and as elevated poetic description. The sentence belongs to one of the poem’s set-piece evocations of the countryside’s renewal—fields greening, trees leafing, woods blossoming—where the calendar of work is momentarily suspended in favor of a celebratory tableau of nature “dressing” itself anew.

The quotation personifies the year as if it were a figure putting on festive clothing, turning spring into a kind of ceremonial transformation. On the surface it is a vivid catalogue of seasonal markers—grass, leaves, blossoms—but its deeper effect is to present nature as ordered, abundant, and aesthetically meaningful. In the *Georgics*, such passages do more than praise beauty: they suggest that human life and labor are embedded in cycles of growth and return. The “gay attire” implies not mere decoration but a public display of vitality, making spring a symbol of renewal, hope, and the world’s recurring capacity to begin again.